Chicotin had hoped to fall on Jéricourt, but having failed to calculate the distance accurately, he collided violently with the young dandy, Alfred de Saint-Arthur. The shock was so sudden and so unexpected by Alfred, whose back was turned to the passers-by, that he fell forward with his face against the flower girl’s wares; and as the counter was not strong enough to hold the weight of his body, it collapsed under the young man.
Violette uttered a loud exclamation when she saw her flowers scattered over the concrete, and Monsieur de Saint-Arthur apparently trying to swim among them.
Jéricourt, taken by surprise by this unexpected mishap, also received a kick or two from Chicotin, for the latter, still pursued by his comrade, who finally overtook him, began with him a struggle which was all in jest, but in which, although they were merely fooling, the young men dealt each other blows so lustily applied that everybody who was near them received some.
“Will you stop, or go somewhere else and fight, you clowns?” cried Jéricourt. “Just look at what you have done! All of the girl’s flowers are on the ground!”
“Ah! it’s that good-for-nothing Patatras again!” said Violette; “he is always doing something of the kind; he must always be making trouble somewhere! It’s outrageous; I am going to complain to the inspector.”
“Oh, I beg pardon, excuse me, Mamzelle Violette,” said Chicotin, rising, “you must know that I didn’t fall against your stall on purpose. It’s Chopard’s fault; why did he chase me when I tried to get out of the way behind your customers?”
“Why did you come and trip me up when I wasn’t saying anything to you?”
“I’ll do it again when I choose, you long bobêche!”
“Oh, yes! just come and try! I’ll show you!”
“Sapristi! are you going to begin again, you scoundrels, instead of picking up these bouquets which you knocked down?”